Baby and the Colt
by JenKristo
Summary: Dean x human!Impala. After a job goes awry, the Impala and the Colt become human. Dean comes to find that he's still as fond of his Baby now as he was before. Be prepared for some bromance with the Colt as well.


Baby and the Colt

One morning, Sam and Dean awoke to find they had been robbed while they slept. The realization came slowly. Dean got dressed and patted himself down for his wallet. Coming up with nothing, he did it again. It was missing. Sam helped him look around, sift through their bags, and after a few moments Sam paused, staring into the closet.

"Shit."

"What is it?" Dean asked, but as Sam went to the closet, Dean already knew. He followed him and caught sight of the open safe. The Colt was gone.

Dean quickly looked at the table where he had left the car key the night before. Dread dug into him when he found the table empty. "Oh no. Oh no, Baby…"

"What?" Sam asked, but Dean was already out the door.

"Oh no, oh no, no…" he was walking into the hotel parking lot, turning around and searching desperately, as if maybe the thief had just taken it for a spin and parked it somewhere else. No, the Impala was gone.

Days went by. They searched the town but found more demons than they found leads, and it was a hell of a time dodging them without the Colt.

"We're lucky they didn't find my wallet too," Sam said as they had dinner at the local pub. Dean miserably pushed the spaghetti around his plate, not eating any. "Well find it," Sam tried to assure him, but he didn't really know.

Dean leaned back in his seat, studying the other people in the bar. He sat with Sam in the far corner, hidden in a dimly-lit booth. Demons littered this town, and they couldn't afford to be spotted again without the Colt. Still, Dean had been vigilant with everyone they met since they'd been robbed, looking around for anything that would point back to his car. There were a few older men at the bar, a less-than pretty waitress with a sweet smile, a few patrons in the other booths and a group of men playing pool.

Laughter erupted from the pool table and he glanced that way. Over the last half an hour he'd been eyeing the group, which appeared a little more rugged than the other people around. One man in particular stood out from the rest. From the way he told stories, Dean could tell he wasn't with the others. They listened with more amusement than friends hearing it for the second time. The man was taller than the rest, his thick country accent marking all his words. He removed his Stetson, running his fingers through blonde hair before placing it back on.

"Come on Dean, it's not the cowboy."

"I never said it was." Dean almost went back to his plate when the front doors opened, a gust of wind flooding into the bar and catching his attention. A man stepped inside, holding his hood forward against the wind. The doors closed behind him and he stood up straight, pulling the hood back. He was younger, messy dark hair and a dusting of stubble on his jaw. He looked around as he unzipped his jacket, freezing when he caught sight of Dean.

As he looked at him, Dean could only think of the Impala. It was a peculiar, nonsensical feeling that he channeled into anger. It had to be him. He was the one who had robbed them, Dean was sure of it.

"Dean!" the young man shouted, surprising everyone around them. Dean's mouth hung open, surprised. The man started toward them, but in one easy motion, the cowboy grabbed his arm and tugged him back.

The other men playing pool suddenly became aware of Sam and Dean, their eyes flashing black. "The Winchesters!" one of them shouted. Sam and Dean were out of their seats immediately. One of the demons leapt clear across the pool table, his fellows hurrying around. The dark haired young man struggled in the cowboy's grip, shouting angrily as he was shoved into one of the booths.

The first demon grabbed Dean's shirt and Dean punched him in the face, wincing as the demon laughed. And suddenly the cowboy was behind it, one arm wrapping around the demon's neck. The other hand clamped against the side of its face. A shot rang out as if a gun had been fired, and the demon's brains blew out in the opposite direction. Orange light flashed inside him and the demon collapsed.

For a split second, Dean and the cowboy stared at one another. And then a second demon was on them, and a third. Sam pulled one of them off of Dean and whipped a book from his bag. He began to chant in an effort to exorcise them, but it wasn't fast enough. A demon was on him again. The cowboy grabbed the demon's face. A second shot rang out. With an internal flicker of light, the demon's head was blown open.

"Time to go," the young man said, grabbing the sleeve of Dean's coat in a too-familiar way. Dean roughly pulled out of his grip, glaring. "Fine," the younger snapped, "I'll be out back." Sam and Dean watched disconcertedly as the cowboy threw the last demon to the floor, killing it with a shot from his hand.

"What the hell," Dean growled.

The cowboy stood, panting. The three of them turned to the door when a pile of men rushed in, all black-eyed and grimacing. "Yeah, time to go," the cowboy said.

They ran for the back door. Dean pulled in a sharp breath when he caught sight of the Impala, waiting for them with the engine running. "Baby!"

"Just get in!" the cowboy shouted, climbing into the back seat without invitation. There was no time to argue. Dean slipped into the driver's seat beside Sam.

"Where's your friend?" Sam asked.

"Just drive!" the cowboy snapped. The demons were already out the door and surrounding the car when Dean drove backward, gravel spitting from beneath the tires before he hit one of the demons. He drove right over him, shifted and zoomed forward, plowing over a second demon before they left the parking lot.

Only moments passed before two cars began to follow after them. Dean stepped on the gas, the Impala roaring forward. "Hell, can't you go any faster?" the cowboy demanded.

"We'll shake them," Dean said, not stepping any harder. He wasn't going to push the Impala if he didn't have to.

"I ain't talking to you."

"Huh?" Suddenly the gas pedal was sinking beneath his foot. "What the hell…?" The wheel turned out of his grip and the car began to drive itself. "What the hell did you do to my car!" Dean shouted. The car accelerated and screeched around a turn, throwing Sam into Dean's lap. He was hauled back into place as the Impala turned again, darting into an unmarked road in the woods. The car slowed on the dirt, stopping a few yards in. The engine died and the lights shut off.

The three of them sat silently in the dark. Seconds went by and the two cars behind them caught up, driving right by them on the main road.

"Phew!" the cowboy sang. Dean whipped around, a knife digging against the man's neck. Sam turned on one of the lights to see the blonde leaning back against the seat, hands raised peaceably. His face, however, was unfazed. "Best be gettin' that out of my face, son."

Dean ignored him. "What are you?"

"You could say I'm a hunter myself."

"Well, Hunter Yourself, do you make a habit of creeping into other hunters' hotel rooms and robbing them while they sleep?"

The cowboy sighed, arms falling to his lap. Dean pressed the knife harder against the stranger's neck, beads of red forming on the blade. The man grunted, slowly pulling something from his pocket. He tossed it into the front seat.

"It's your wallet," Sam said. "What about the Colt?"

The cowboy smiled, raising his hands again and wiggling his fingers. "Right here, sugar."

"Right where?"

"Right in front of your eyes, right under your nose. I didn't steal no weapon from your hotel room. I just walked right out with my own two legs. Well, not before snagging your wallet. Couldn't very well go riding around without wearing a thing or two."

Dean stared for a very long time, his blade lowering just a bit. He exchanged glances with Sam, who also had an exhausted expression on his face. "Well, this can't be the weirdest thing we've ever gone through." He turned to the man in back. "So you're saying this is some kind of skinwalker-shapeshifter deal? You were the Colt and now you're a man?"

"You saw what happened in the bar," he answered. "I'm still the Colt now. Been goin' by 'Colton West'."

"Colton West," Dean repeated dryly. "Great. How do we turn you back into a gun?"

The cowboy smirked unhelpfully.

"How did this happen?" Dean asked when he received no reply.

"We've got a theory," Colton said. "Remember the little car accident on your last job?"

Sam chimed in. "Dean crashed the Impala into the storage shed behind the cursed artifacts shop in Wisconsin."

Dean winced, guiltily patting the seat next to him. "That shed was flimsy. She didn't even get a scratch."

"Right," Colton said, smirking. "We crashed into a world of artifacts in there. There's no telling what happened exactly. I reckon it was the red powder on the floor, you dropped me right in there and I'll tell you I'm not happy about it."

"Yeah, yeah, sorry," Dean grumbled.

"I'm still pickin' red dust out of all sorts of places-"

"Yes, thank you," Sam cut in. "How about we get out of here? The hotel is sounding pretty good right now."

"Yeah Dean, let's go back to the hotel."

The Winchesters glared at the man in the back. But after weighing their options, they resigned to the fact that he was still the Colt, and they needed him.

To be Continued.


End file.
